


A Stranger at his Door

by theflowercrownedking



Category: Black Sails
Genre: It's from Thomas' POV and he doesnt like Silver, M/M, Sorta John Silver Critical, he just wants to go back to bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflowercrownedking/pseuds/theflowercrownedking
Summary: Silver comes looking for Flint. Thomas answers the door.





	A Stranger at his Door

**Author's Note:**

> no betas we die like men

It is early morning when Thomas hears the knock upon his door, and he’s just put some water on to boil for his morning tea. He hadn’t been awake long, wasn’t even properly dressed for company, but as he expecting it to be naught but the neighbour looking to trade milk for eggs like usual, he didn’t bother to change. He fully expected to return to bed soon.

He opens the door, barefoot and bleary eyed, only to do a quick doubletake when it most certainly wasn’t the short, stout Mrs Appleby at his door. Instead, a man with thick dark hair and a long beard stood before him, leaning on a crutch and – oh. He knew who this was.

 “You must be Lord Hamilton, I presume?” His voice was deeper than he’d expected, from the way James had described him. It was perfectly charming, but Thomas had heard enough to know otherwise.

“I haven’t been a Lord in some time, Mr Silver.” He kept his voice curt, having long since dropped the need for the pleasantries that had comprised most of London society. He didn’t make any attempt to further the conversation, and he didn’t move aside to let Silver in.

Eventually realising he wouldn’t be getting anything even closely resembling a welcome from Thomas, Silver took some initiative. “Yes, well, be that as it may, I was rather hoping to speak with ah, James, actually.”

Thomas could tell that he had almost slipped, and called him Flint. “You can’t,” he said, before moving to close the door. “Goodbye, Mr Silver.”

He was quite content to have that be the end of it, but things could never go easily for Thomas Hamilton. Looking down at where the crutch had wedged between the door and the frame, he sighed, before swinging the door back open. His feet were getting colder by the second, and he really wanted to get back into the soft, warm bed, with his tea. He let this show on his face.

“Look, if you just let me speak to him, I’ll leave by the day’s end and never return.” Silver gave him what was probably ordinarily a delightful smile. “I’ll never grace your farm with my presence again, but I have to talk with him. Surely he’s spoken of our friendship? The way things ended, I’m not proud of it. I want nothing but honesty between us now. I am ready for it, as I feel he may be, too.”

As he listened to Silver speak, he watched that easy, charming smile morph into what appeared to be a smaller, more sincere one. Thomas wondered if his own facial expression had turned as incredulous as he currently felt. He spent a good few seconds just staring at Silver, before turning his head to stare at some far away point on the horizon.

“He’s dead,” he said plainly. As if he were commenting on the weather.

Now it was Silver’s turn to stare. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed a few times, before finally he stuttered out a “D-Dead?”

Thomas’ gaze slipped back to meet Silver’s eyes, but he was blinking, rapidly, and couldn’t seem to focus. He took pity on him, then, and explained.

“As we were escaping, he was shot. We managed to get this far, but, well, you remember the state he was in when you sent him to me.” Thomas almost used the phrase ‘when you sold him’, but Silver’s eyes looked watery, and Thomas didn’t have the energy nor the desire for a fight.  Gesturing behind him, he continued, “There’s grave towards the end of the property. Under the tree with the blossom. It’s marked by a pile of stones.”

Silver was nodding now, but Thomas wondered if he really comprehended what he was saying. He looked like he was in shock. He probably was. If Thomas were a better man, he’d invite the man in for some calming tea. Many years ago, he probably would have done just that, but a decade of lessons from Bethlem and the Plantation had changed him.

“You had to know this was a possibility.” Silver’s eyes finally flick up to meet his, and his wet eyes look as though they might hold a hint of defiance, but Thomas doesn’t let him interrupt. “You said you were ready to be honest.  Be honest with yourself. Did you think him invincible?”

The defiance leaves Silver as quickly as it had appeared. Thomas thought back to when James had shakily admitted that Silver had sent five men to kill him, and he realised that maybe Silver _had_ thought him invincible. A second memory emerged, then, of James whispering into the night that Silver was convinced he’d be his end. Well, Thomas supposed, his wish was granted.

Losing whatever sliver of pity he had felt, he sighed. Silver looked like he was fighting to say something, anything, but before he could find the words Thomas pointed once more to the back of his property. “Go visit the grave, find some closure. You and I have nothing to discuss.”

“I – Yes. Yes. Thank you, Mr Hamilton.” Thomas wasn’t quite sure what he was being thanked for, but he tipped his head in acknowledgement at the shaky man before him, before finally closing the door.

Taking a deep breath, he allows the tea to steep in a pot with the now boiled water, before peering out the window. Silver had shuffled out to the grave and it looked like maybe he was speaking. Thomas turned away, giving him a moment of privacy, and grabs one cup out of the cupboard, and then another, before filling them both with tea.

Carrying them both into the bedroom, he places them on the bedside table, and smiles fondly down at the sleeping man currently hugging a pillow to his chest, as if it could replace Thomas somehow. He presses a soft kiss to the man’s head, before slipping in beside his red-headed lover and snuggling into his warmth. His icy toes press in between the warmer man’s legs, and he feels him begin to wake.

“Mmrf, cold, Thomas, no.” But despite his gruff words, James only hugged him closer. Thomas sighed happily, succumbing to the embrace and letting the heat seep back into him. “What took you so long?”

“Some lost traveller at the door, nothing to worry about, love.” He leans in to kiss James slowly, before whispering against his lips, “let’s stay in bed this morning.”

He feels James’ answering grin against his own as he is swept into another languid kiss, and the cooling tea on the bedside, as well as the stranger currently mourning over a dead dog’s grave, are both promptly forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone noticing a recurring factor in all my writing so far - I literally live for Thomas and James cuddling in bed its my happy place.
> 
> Lore: I wrote this in maybe an hour or two, after seeing people discussing the likelihood of Thomas punching Silver if they ever met. I fully support this, but on the other hand, merely punching Silver might mean he'll come back eventually. Thomas decides to use the fact that Silver has literally no idea what he looks like when he's lying instead.
> 
> Now imagine Silver knocking on the door to say goodbye, maybe apologise to Thomas or thank him for his time (unlikely as it is), and James answering the door with just a sheet around his waist.
> 
> Anyway I've got a few ideas for a much happier fic where both Madi and Silver visit FlintHam, so keep an eye out if you're looking for a fic that's not a bummer


End file.
